


Audition

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The Mariners Revenge Song (song)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had uploader's remorse as soon as I sent off my first story, so I wrote a second fic for you! It's a happyfic about the girl MC asking to join the pirates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Audition

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to magicnoire for reading for me a second time!
> 
> Written for allie

 

 

I stood on the deck of the ship awkwardly, my face burning as the pirate captain and his stout first mate examined my gawky figure. Please please please let me pass for a boy.

"Girl," the captain said. "Definitely a girl."

"Without a doubt," the first mate agreed.

Oh no. My heart sank and I cleared my throat, trying to lower my voice. "I'm a boy."

The men exchanged a look and a white, flashing grin creased the captain's tanned face. He stared pointedly at my legs. "Those aren't the hips of a boy."

Blast. I'd worn the baggiest clothing I could find, but nothing could change the swell of my hips in relation to the narrowness of my waist. If they thought I was a girl, they'd never let me on the ship. Some sailors considered it unlucky to have a woman aboard a ship, and this was my final option. I had to sail out. Today.

So I jerked my cap off my head and ruffled my shorn blonde hair, feeling the tips skim the tops of my ears. "I ain't a girl," I drawled in my best boy-voice. 

The stout first mate moved closer to me, circling around my gangly form as if trying to make up his mind, except that damned smile on his face told me that he wasn't quite taking me seriously. After a moment more, he reached out and laid a hand flat on my chest, feeling for the swell of a breast. I squeaked in alarm when he gave the mound a squeeze.

"Definitely a girl."

The captain laughed, bending over and slapping his knee with amusement.

Angry, humiliated, I reached out and did the same to the first mate - grabbing his barrel-chest and feeling my hands along his front until I landed on one of his equally fleshy mounds. "You must be a girl then, too. Your tits are bigger than mine."

The captain collapsed in a fit of laughter, roaring with delight as the first mate jerked backward.

Others on the ship began to stare at us, and I pulled my hand back, cringing as I expected to be slapped. I didn't think. Hadn't thought at all, and now they'd never let me sail with them.

The first mate stared at me, dumbfounded, then, slowly, began to chuckle. "Damn, maybe she's got a pair o' balls after all," he said, breaking into laughter.

My heart began to slow its alarmed pounding.

The captain recovered first, wiping his eyes and giving me another once over. "Can you shoot a gun, lass?"

"I'll need you to teach me," I said breathlessly. Were they going to give me a chance? A chance was all I needed. "I'll work really hard. Promise." I wrung my sad, cheap cap in my hands anxiously.

He didn't look pleased with my response. "You'd be a terrible pirate, lass. First rule is, `If you don't know how to do it, you lie.' Understand me? No ship will take you on if you don't know the basics." His voice was gentle, as if he were trying to let me down easy.

"I see." I wrinkled my nose. 

"Can you clean a cannon?"

Did one actually clean cannons? I had no idea. So I smiled blithely and gave him a nod. "Shined `em all the time, I have. All a cannon needs is a good shining to make it sparkle," I babbled, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. "Fact is, I can make your cannons so clean, the outside'll fairly shine like a beacon," I boasted.

The captain's shoulders shook with laughter again, and he just smiled. 

The first mate scowled at that. "Why on earth would we want to shine like a beacon, ya dumb girl?"

At my confused look, the captain elaborated. "You, ah, clean the inside of the cannon. So it can be reloaded properly."

Oh. "Well, I've done that plenty of times too," I said, defensive.

"Very good," the captain said, his voice polite. 

The first mate looked less pleased. "Can ye cook?"

How very impolite of him. I bristled, pulling myself up to my full height. "And do you ask all the other men that wish to join you if they can cook?"

The captain turned away, no doubt to hide another laugh.

"Usually just ask the lads how many throats they've cut," the first mate growled at me. "But you're a girl."

"Ask me how many throats I've cut, then!"

He threw up his hands in disgust. "How many?"

What was a good number? One? Thirteen? "Seven," I guessed. That sounded like a nice and safe number. Not too dangerous, but just dangerous enough.

The first mate sighed and ran a hand down his face. "You sure you can't cook?" he asked wearily.

I shook my head.

The captain cleared his throat and exchanged glances with his first mate. "How old are you, lass?"

"Sixteen," I replied, then added, "And that one's no lie."

His lips twitched. "No. Your name?"

"Charlotte. Everyone calls me Charlie, though."

He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, taking a few steps toward me, as if contemplating my fate. That they hadn't immediately kicked me off the ship was a good sign, though I suspected it had more to do with the fact that I was amusing than any serious consideration on my part.

"Charlotte--"

"Charlie!"

"Charlie," the captain tried again. "I realize you are young and willing to learn, and that's very admirable. But if you were a boy, we'd ask you what sort of skills you bring to the Bonny Ann. And if you had nothing to offer, you don't get to sail with us, understand?"

"This ain't a tea social," the first mate added. "We're pirates."

"What I'm asking you, Charlie," the captain said, "is that you need to give me a reason to invite you on board to sail with us. What can you do?"

My heart sank with every word, and I twisted my cap so hard that I could feel the fabric threads tearing loose. What could I do? What could I bring to the table? What had I possibly learned that a pirate could find beneficial? Before my mother had died, she'd shown me a few things, but they were of no use unless the men wanted a knit sweater or weave...

"Knots," I blurted, thinking aloud. "I'm very good with knots. And I can make nets."

"Knots?" said the captain.

"Nets?" echoed the first mate. "Why do we need more nets?"

Feigning confidence, I unraveled my mangled, twisted hat and placed it back on my head. "What sailor can't use a few more nets?"

The captain walked away, and disappointment shot through my body as I watched his back retreat. Had I lost the opportunity already? But then he leaned over the deck and grabbed a thick length of rope, and brought it back to where I stood near the first mate. He held the rope out to me. "Why don't you show us what you can do?"

A demonstration. Of course. I took the rope and sat down on the deck, crossing my legs tightly against me like a boy would. I took the rope in my hands, noting the thick, coarse weave and how it scratched my hands. It wasn't much like soft, pliable yarn. Still, I could manage. Using my arm instead of the knitting needle, I quickly created a slip knot, undid it, and then created the knot again.

The men did not look impressed. "Anything else?"

Uneasy, I pulled the slip knot, loosing the rope, and then set about creating a variety of weaving knots and demonstrating each one to the captain and first mate: the weaver's knot, the double English knot, the Queensbury knot. Over and over I knotted the rope, pulled it free, and started again, until my hands shook and ached and I was running out of length, and I still kept knotting, as if my paltry skill might somehow impress the silence out of them. I moved to the end of the rope and pulled it the length of it toward me to tie into a final knot when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"That's enough, lass."

Defeat slumped my body and I hunched over the rope, doing my best not to cry like the girl everyone knew I was. "I'm a hard worker, I really am," I said, voice hoarse.

"You can't cook," the captain stated.

"No."

"Can't fire a gun or clean a cannon."

I didn't argue. I just hung my head.

"And you've already forgotten the first rule of being a pirate."

"Being a good liar," I whispered, defeated.

The captain squatted next to me and tugged on my ear, a friendly gesture. "Why are you so hell-bent on joining a pirate ship anyhow, lass?"

I glanced back up at him. "I have to kill a man."

He rocked back on his heels, the white grin returning. "Come again?"

"I have to kill a man," I repeated, and the old familiar anger began to burn in my gut. "He stole our money and left my mother broken-hearted, and she died of sadness. I aim to track him down on his ship and break all his fingers and cut his throat." My hands clenched tightly on the rope and I gritted my teeth, just at the thought of the bastard. "He's the captain of a whaler, and I figured if anyone could catch him on his boat and murder him, it'd be pirates."

The captain slapped my shoulder. "Now that's something we can get behind, lass. You have a lot of experience breaking fingers, then?"

"I can learn," I said eagerly. "I'll learn anything you teach me - how to cut a throat, or stab a man in the belly, whatever you want to show me."

The captain stood and nodded at the first mate. "She can sail with us until the next port. If it doesn't work out, we can dump her there." He glanced back at me, winked, and left me with the first mate.

I scrambled to my feet, delighted. My smile grew wider with every second. I was going to be allowed to stay after all!

The first mate just shook his head at me and gave my cheek a light slap. "If you're going to pretend to be a boy, get rid of that sissy girl smile on your face. Pirates don't smile like they're going to a tea party."

But he was smiling as he said it.

 


End file.
